


it hurts me just to think (and i don't do pain)

by Fever002



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: But it sometimes is, Confused Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Enderman Hybrid Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Not Canon Compliant, Protective Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo is scared and alone and I relate to some parts of his character, Ranboo's Bad Memory, Ranboo-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Yes it isn't beta read but I proofread this myself thank you, got the inspo for this during Ranboo's lore stream in the prison, my friends said they wanted more and im here to provide, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:15:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29118840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fever002/pseuds/Fever002
Summary: Ranboo had to get out of Manburg (L'Manburg? He can't recall what's it's being called at the moment).So he ran, and he ran fast. He didn't know where to go at first, but the snowy tundra and the coordinates on his communicator told him he was nearing Technoblade's house.This couldn't be good.
Relationships: Ranboo & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 431





	1. 1 | the cold bites back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ranboo is scared.  
> Technoblade is frustrated.  
> Phil is out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings - Slight gore, Ranboo is injured in the chapter and has to have an arrow removed, the procedure is mentioned, Blood, Mentions of blades being used on a person (part of the procedure to remove the arrow)
> 
> Stay safe when reading!
> 
> Also yes the title is from My Ordinary Life - The Living Tombstone, but it fit so well, especially with Ranboo's memory issues.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this, the random burst of inspiration followed through and I really enjoyed writing this. 
> 
> [Music_1](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bf9pWm2lgQI)  
> [Music_2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bFYzSiFuRXE)  
> [Music_3](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6L6EOVrD8A0)

Ranboo couldn’t remember a lot, that was for sure.

But he could remember some things. Some things that his brain thought were distinct and important enough that he _has_ to remember them (regardless of whether they were the one memories he would like to forget or not).

He undoubtedly figured that this would end up being one of those memories.

Wounded, running through the consistently melting snow which burned at his skin, frying the scaly texture, a whitish light in the distance signifying what he assumed to be Technoblade’s house; if the coordinates on Phil’s compass were correct (he saw them purely on accident, he swears; he was passed it when he was a part of the _Butchers_ , which he was also peer pressured into, he would like to add, and just so happened to read what was scratched into the metal).

It would be absolutely mortifying to knock on the door of the person who a group he was a part of aspired to _brutally murder_ , with an _anvil_ , so Ranboo crossed that off of his short list of viable options.

But then again, the arrow wound that cut through the thick skin of his left shoulder from a Stray about a mile back still stung, almost as much as the water currently burning him and the cold making him lose all feelings in his hands, was making him think that humiliation he might have to endure couldn’t possibly be worse than _this_.

But Technoblade could kill him. _Would_ kill him.

The snow continued melting and Ranboo was made conscious of the fact that his suit was most definitely not fit for this kind of weather. The thinned blazer and worn out oxfords that squeezed his feet only let the snow in, rather than keeping it out (he probably grew out of those shoes a year and a half ago, when he last had a major growth spurt, but he didn’t have the money nor the resources to get new ones, and Ranboo wasn’t the type to complain).

The stinging in his shoulder brought him back, he could hear dogs barking from the kennel he was fast approaching, the light now bright enough to fill the entirety of his vision, some of the lanterns lighting up the area providing a little warmth to Ranboo’s shaking figure.

Technoblade’s horse – Carl, he believes – grunted as he neared his small enclosure.

“Shh, sorry, I, I’ll be out of here in a second, okay?” Ranboo tried shushing him through quiet whispers only to get another grunt in reply as the horse shoved his head into Ranboo’s chest.

God, this horse was warm.

How the horse had managed to stay _this_ warm through the snowy tundra and current ongoing blizzard was far beyond Ranboo, but he had no time for questions as he rested his head on Carl’s snout, as if trying to take the warmth Carl held for himself.

Technoblade was going to kill him if he saw him there, practically looming over the horse with his tall stature.

He felt blood running down the back of his arms, the feeling making Ranboo oh so painfully aware of the arrow in his shoulder, and the numerous cuts and bruises he had gotten from tripping and falling through various forests and narrowly escaping every mob he came across (apart from that _one_ Stray).

Heavy footsteps padding across creaking floorboards made his pointed ears shift upwards, and Ranboo instantly jumped into Carl’s enclosure upon hearing the sound.

Technoblade was here, and he was going to find him. He was going to be caught and, most likely, killed on the spot for a wide variety of things.

A lock clicked in and out place.

 _Trespassing_.

The front door swung open with a thud, the vicious winter winds slamming it open.

_Conspiring against **him** , the Blood God._

Footsteps were clear against the cobble stairs, and then softened on the wet grass.

_Attempted murder._

“Ranboo?”

He passed out.

\--

Technoblade was having a rough day to begin with.

Phil hadn’t returned yet, and a blizzard had suddenly came out of nowhere, coating the tundra in even more snow than usual, causing his anxiety to spike. He eventually got a message on his communicator from Phil that the man had came across a village and would be spending the night there, promising to be back the following morning.

Technoblade figured he needed to take his mind off of Phil’s safety, Chat’s conflicting shouts of ‘ _Philza Danger_!’ and ‘ _Everyone safe_ ’ didn’t help, so he decided to check on Carl, his beloved horse, instead of listening to the mind numbing arguments between the voices in his head.

Only Carl wasn’t the only thing in Carl’s enclosure when he went out there.

No. A tall, shaking teenager was sat on the half eaten hay bale in the back of the pen, a boy Technoblade vaguely recognised as ‘Ranboo’. The poor kid looked like he was going to just about die from the cold, and he held blatant fear in his eyes as Techno approached.

He didn’t want to scare the kid, but had clearly already failed at doing that; so he spoke in the softest tone he could muster in hope that Ranboo would calm down.

“Ranboo?”

The kid passed out.

It was almost hard to tell that he was no longer conscious, but Technoblade recognised the tell-tale signs of the boys tense shoulders relaxing, body sagging against the stone wall behind him.

Techno sighed and Carl grunted, the voices chanting _Technoprotect_ _Technoprotect_ and _Help him! Save Ranfriend!_

“Yeah, yeah, I get it Chat.” He opened the wooden gate and scooped the boy up in his arms, he was surprisingly light, especially for his large height, which set off warning signs in Technoblade’s head. The kid clearly hadn’t eaten a proper meal in a while.

His skin was chilled, a stark contrast to Endermen’s usual naturally hot skin, and he had assumed the hybrid’s would be no different. The cold had really done a number on him.

His door swung open and then closed again as he stepped inside, a blast of warm air hitting him in the face, which was unusually bare, lacking the usual boar mask he wore due to being in his own home, not having expected seeing anyone else.

He laid Ranboo on his couch, he had to make sure he wasn’t injured before getting him into a bed, and the fire near the couch could warm him up while Technoblade did so.

Skilled fingers worked on talking off his blazer and shoes, they clearly weren’t helping him get warm, and he saw blood stains running across his white shirt. He was going to have to get that arrow out.

He cringed at the thought. He didn’t want the kid to wake up in the middle of him trying to remove an arrow from his shoulder, but he couldn’t just let it stay in there, and possibly get infected.

He turned Ranboo over so he lay on his stomach, removing the shirt that was sticking to his body, the clothing wet with his blood.

The arrow wound luckily wasn’t infected, but was clearly going to be nasty to remove.

The arrow point was lodged into the flesh, not in the scaly black side of his body, but the white, fleshy part which was from some unidentifiable creature that most certainly wasn’t Enderman.

The arrow point wasn’t fully in, luckily, so Technoblade wouldn’t have to cut deeply into his skin to remove it. He snapped the arrow in half, just past the hafting, and took out a small blade he always made sure to keep on his person. The skin was uncomfortable to cut, Ranboo’s still body not moving as the blade dug in, red blood spilling out from beneath the arrow point in small amounts, trickling over Ranboo’s shoulder and joining the rest of the dried blood along his arm.

The arrow point was made of stone- or maybe flint, but it didn’t look that well made- and he could finally take it out. One strong pull had it sliding out with ease, the tip coated in Ranboo’s blood, and Technoblade took a minute to stare at it before realising he had to clean the wound or it would definitely get infected, especially from having a rock implanted in his shoulder for who knows how long.

He was going to have to make more health potions, he thought, as he removed the cork from one and poured some of it straight into the wound, and some of it onto a fresh, clean cloth he hadn’t used yet.

The liquid drenched the cloth and he began to wipe around the edges of the wound, where the skin was the most tender, as well as the rest of his arm where he had small grazes and dried blood.

The wound had already started healing, but he made sure to wrap it up in a bandage anyway, the healing process could take a little longer since the wound was quite severe, and he didn’t want anything getting in and wrecking his handiwork while it healed.

Ranboo shifted, his face contorting in pain yet never waking up.

Technoblade sighed for the millionth time that night. He was going to have to get the kid some new clothes, and make sure he had no other minor injuries.

What a day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the first chapter,,, I really enjoyed writing this, especially from Ranboo's point of view and thought process (I relate to parts of Ranboo's character, and think that the character he has built up as well as the rest of the SMP characters that have been built up are really cool).  
> Thanks for reading, new chapter coming very soon!


	2. 2 | time doesn't heal all wounds (time heals nothing)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ranboo wakes up.  
> Phil is so- no, too- nice to him.  
> He can't trust them (he decides), though he's forever in their debt for helping him.  
> Technoblade is uncomfortable with having what he calls a 'weird teen' stuck in his house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter! I'm really happy to keep writing and updating because I have so much inspiration at the moment, so I'm basically milking that for all it's worth and writing non stop.  
> I wanna make the chapters longer too! The first chapter was a little over 1.5K words, and this chapter is a bit under 2.4K.
> 
> Happy Reading :) remember to stay safe.
> 
> [Music_4](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8s1wp8JvX4I)  
> [Music_5](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6rx7ktXwhpE)  
> [Music_6](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rbxL5BVEkRs)

Ranboo awoke with a start, body jolting up into a natural defensive mode, before he instantly curled back in on himself. Yeah, that was a migraine.

Where was he? If his memory was correct (and it often wasn’t) he was outside of Technoblade’s house right before blacking out. He couldn’t be in Technoblade’s house, could he?

The nausea encompassing his stomach from his migraine threatened to spill out of his throat. Wouldn’t Technoblade kill him? Why had he brought him inside? Would he rather Ranboo be awake when he decided to murder to him?

He let out a whine as he moved his arms, the arrow he was sure was in his shoulder last night had been removed, only leaving a dull ache in his limb and the uncomfortable feeling of soft bandages pulling around his skin.

A grunt from downstairs.

Footsteps across wooden flooring and the opening of a trap door.

Ranboo’s head snapped to the trap door that had opened up, now leaning against the side of a wall.

A man’s head barely poked through the top of the door, and the tell-tale noise of shoes against a wooden ladder was apparent as more of the man’s head was shown.

“Ah, you’re awake!” it was Phil. Or Philza, or Philza Minecraft, Ranboo recalled his full name as he shifted in his place and nodded in confusion.

“We were a little worried; you’ve been out for quite a while.” ‘We’? Oh. Right. He was in Technoblade’s house, on presumably Technoblade’s bed, in what might be Technoblade’s room.

“Ah,” his voice came out croaky, like he hadn’t used it in a while (he hadn’t) “sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for, are you hungry? We have some food down here; I can bring some up for you if you don’t have the energy to move.” Why was he being so nice to him? Ranboo couldn’t remember the last time someone was so kind (not that that was surprising), maybe it was when he first entered L’Manburg (he’d written about that day in extensive detail in his memory book) and Tubbo had gifted him some supplies to start building a house. Not that it was still standing anymore.

Ranboo realised he hadn’t answered fill and panicked, trying to speak through his dry throat. “Uh, that, that sounds good, yeah. Good. I can probably stand up; you don’t have to bring me anything.”

Phil simply nodded, stepping back down the ladder.

Ranboo huffed, removing the blankets that rested over his legs and trying to stand up- his legs were _sore_.

He winced at the pain but stayed standing, resting some of his weight on one of the bed’s banisters before hobbling over to the trap door and climbing down the ladder.

His left arm couldn’t hold his weight very well, it was still painful after all, so he tried not to use it as much.

The main floor was much more crowded than he thought it would be, especially considering it was Technoblade’s house. Ranboo had expected something completely minimalist. Instead of minimalist, he had a table near the door, which could easily fit four...probably six people on it, three empty plates and bowls heaped with food, as well as unlit stick candles in a row across the centre. Ranboo was made aware of just how hungry he was. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a proper meal. Ever since L’Manburg was blown up he lived off of the small rations he found before fleeing into his panic room, and then even less food when he ran to the woods, and eventually the snowy tundra. His stomach growled.

There was a large stone fireplace made up of limestone and granite, a fire burning in the middle of it, and a worn out forest green couch near it. There was also a rug next to the couch from some kind of animal, but it was obscured by the view of the table and Ranboo’s hunger was making him lack any care for the rest of Technoblade’s almost cluttered yet spacious décor.

His hunger gnawed at his stomach and he looked up, avoiding eye contact with a smiling Phil, and he realised Technoblade was in the room too. He flinched at his sight, and his eyes dropped to the floorboards again.

“You can have a seat over there, help yourself to any food.” Phil spoke gently, and Ranboo nodded, trudging to the seat Phil pointed at and only shifted his eyes upwards to look at the piles of food; steaming potatoes in one bowl, a plate of steak and a bowl of vegetable, mainly carrots.

Technoblade didn’t hesitate to take some food for himself, Ranboo flinching as he raised a knife to his steak.

Technoblade’s eyebrow raised and Ranboo fiddled with the hem of his shirt. Ah, he hadn’t realised someone had changed him out of his wrecked clothes, putting him in a silky white tunic and comfortable pants. That was a good thing to put his attention on, rather than Technoblade’s stare he could feel burning into the top of his head.

Phil could feel the growing tension as he watched Techno have a staring contest with poor Ranboo’s head “Please, take anything you want, we’ve got plenty.” Ranboo nodded again. Clearly not a fan of saying many words.

He spooned some food onto his plate to eat quietly, not wanting to make the dinner any more awkward than it already was.

The food was as filling as Ranboo expected. He didn’t eat a lot, though he was extraordinarily hungry, as he hadn’t been used to eating large meals for quite a while.

His ears went flat against his head as a knife scraped along someone else’s plate, shrinking into the back of his wooden chair. Technoblade sighed.

“How're your injuries doin'?” his gruff voice startled Ranboo into looking up, meeting his mask-less face and, more importantly, his crimson eyes. His voice seemed to surprise Phil too, who looked towards the man, surprise written across his face as he clearly hadn’t expected him to speak.

“Uh fine, thank you. Did you heal me? Thank you.” Ranboo spoke with clear discomfort.

“Yep, that was me. Was kind of a pain havin’ to get that arrow out of your shoulder. Whatever Stray hit you had a nasty shot.” Ranboo flinched at the thought of causing trouble for him.

“Thanks, and, sorry, for being so much trouble. I should be able to leave soon. Or whenever you want me to leave.” He spluttered out flustered responses, not wanting to anger _The Blade_.

Technoblade frowned.

“That wasn’t what I was tryin’ to say. And s’no chance you’re leaving in this kind of weather,” he motioned to one of the windows behind him, and Ranboo only just realised that the weather from the night before wasn’t just a one off. There was a full blown blizzard outside.

The silence settled again and Phil’s wings ruffled from behind him, briefly reminding Ranboo of his scary title the _Angel of Death_ ; the sinking feeling in his stomach returned as he once again remembered who exactly he was sitting with. But Phil was nice. Right?

“Uh, Ranboo?” Phil started, “why exactly where you outside in the cold like that?” Ranboo’s frown deepened and he scratched next to one of his horns.

“It’s uh, kind of a long story. Dream kind of blew up the country. Which you were there for. Of course. Uh,” he felt increasingly more and more awkward as he vaguely remembered Technoblade well, bombing the country along with Dream and spawning an ungodly amount of Withers.

“My uh, my house got kind of blown up, so I couldn’t live there anymore. And I didn’t really know where to go. So I stayed in my um, my panic room? I stayed there for a while but I didn’t really have any food down there with me so I needed to go but I didn’t know where to go so I just kept walking but I realised I was going towards Technoblade’s house. I only knew where it was because of Philza’s compass, sorry, I, uh, I didn’t mean to hurt you, or put you on house arrest over in L’Manburg, uh sorry, it doesn’t really help but yeah. I wrote the coordinates down back when I saw them on the compass in case it was important, nothing else, I swear!” He had been rambling for a while now; he realised, and got flustered at their stares as he looked up to see them sharing a slightly confused look with each other.

“Breathe, kid.” Phil’s calming voice told him. “We just wanted to know how you got that messed up. What about that group you were a part of? The uh,” he glanced at Techno for a moment. “The Butchers?” Ranboo flinched for what must have been the thousandth time that day.

“I left them a while back. Just after we went to your house, actually. I didn’t really want to be a part of them anyway. I was kind of made to join. Not that they’re all bad people! Tubbo’s super nice to me! And uh, Fundy, he seems...cool?” he panicked to try and defend the few people he knew, though the memories he had written down in his book that he had almost forgotten (if not for reading it again not too long ago) reminded him how isolated he felt; both around the rest of The Butchers and by himself.

“Uh, I don’t really care about that whole...Butchers fiasco. Sure Phil doesn’t either. I mean, Quackity was kinda annoying. But you aren’t him, so, yeah. You don’t have to worry about that.” Technoblade seemed just as awkward as him- or maybe he was uncomfortable. Whatever it was slightly eased the tension in Ranboo’s shoulders.

“Thank you.” He just about whispered.

The meal carried on like that, an awkward and ever so slightly comfortable silence loomed over the three as they ate, until Technoblade made the executive decision that he was going to leave. Taking his plate away from the table to the kitchen area, mumbling out a goodbye and leaving with a slam of a door.

Phil took both his and Ranboo’s empty plates to the kitchen, before hurrying back to see if the boy was okay.

Ranboo mainly just shrugged, telling him he had nothing to worry about and apologising, once again, for being a bother.

“Nonsense, it’s actually quite nice having someone new around!” Phil gave him a toothy grin, but the warmth from it sat uncomfortably on Ranboo’s shoulders.

“Uh, right, is Technoblade going to be alright out there? The weather’s kind of harsh.” Phil glanced to the window before smiling to himself.

“He’ll be fine; he knows how to take care of himself in this weather. He didn’t pick a snowy tundra for his home for no reason, you know.” Ranboo kind of assumed he had picked the area for its unassuming environment. No one in their right mind would pick the damn ice caps for a _homey place to settle down_ , although he had heard Technoblade had retired.

“You can go get some more sleep if you want, that’s the spare room anyway, and it’s getting late, too.” Phil told him. In Ranboo’s opinion it wasn’t that late, but he couldn’t just say no to the man, and all the pain had taken a toll on his body. He supposed he was a little sleepy (he didn’t think about how his shoulders relaxed considerably upon hearing that that was indeed a spare bedroom, and not Technoblade’s that he had intruded in).

“Right, thank you, Philza sir.” He politely thanked him, the words awkward in his mouth yet they came so naturally. That was one thing that always stuck with him, being polite. Phil almost seemed to wince at the title.

“No need to be so formal, ha, you can just call me Phil. Nobody really calls me Philza anymore, unless it’s something super important.” Ranboo nodded, waved a small goodbye, and pulled himself up the ladder using his one good arm.

Phil was definitely nice- too nice, almost.

He really wished he _didn’t_ have overbearing trust issues at times like this, but oh, what could he say, something about that man’s forgiving kindness seemed off to him.

\--

Chat was demanding blood. Again. Nothing new for Techno, but it got a bit too much when he was sitting with the clearly anxious teen that looked like he would shatter if you poked him.

Night had fallen and what better way to satiate his blood-thirst than killing mindless zombies for an hour? His sword was already gleaming in red, he had been at this for a while, and he was leaned over, catching his breath as he thought about Ranboo.

The blizzard outside was almost too much for Technoblade to handle, never mind the gangly teen who was supposedly sleeping in his spare bed right now.

The whole situation was awkward for Techno, but he knew he couldn’t just throw him out, not in the shape he’s in. Not when he lived with Philza Minecraft, the man who had quite literally adopted the nickname ‘Dadza’ off of quite a few people, including the voices in his head.

He sighed again. Who knows if Ranboo had really left the Butchers- if they hadn’t disbanded already- it all seemed too perfect of a coincidence to have just happened. If it was a coincidence...he did mention knowing the coordinates of his house from Phil’s compass, but why would he decide to go to the Technoblade’s house rather than staying with the other people in the ruined L’Manburg? Or Snowchester, which he had heard Tubbo had built by himself, several people now living there.

His breath fogs up in front of him as he spins on his heel and heads back home. He would just have to be wary around the kid; he could always kill him if he had too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! I struggled a little writing Techno's dialogue and thoughts (because although I seriously relate, his socially awkward and rough personality, especially in the DreamSMP, makes him hard to write for when he isn't being soft).  
> The next chapter should be up soon! I'm writing it at the moment :))  
> You can comment feedback/criticism/your thoughts and leave a kudos/bookmark if you like!  
> Thank you! - Fever


	3. 3 | a gentle reminder that trust takes time (or; vulnerability)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ranboo has a nightmare.  
> Technoblade can't sleep (he rarely does anyway).  
> Conversations happen.  
> Bonds begin to form- slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: none really? Venting, mention of Ranboo's Dream voice which caused depersonalisation, only a mention but if that's triggering/you'd rather not hear Ranboo saying he can't rely on his own thoughts due to the voice you don't have to read.  
> A shorter chapter this time, only around 1k words.  
> Enjoy, and as always stay safe whilst reading :)
> 
> [Music_7](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u6m0ymy2oFk)  
> [Music_8](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NPp7bkxY4KI)  
> [Music_9](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QjvLAJAXdg8)

Ranboo had a nightmare.

There wasn’t much to it, he had gotten them before, but getting a nightmare and then waking up in a dark unknown room before realising that he was in Technoblade’s house was worse than just a nightmare on its own.

His throat was sore and he tiptoed out of the bed, making sure to duck through the doorframes that were just a little too low before creeping down the ladder stairs.

He thought about what might happen if Technoblade catches him. Would he kill him then? He just wanted a glass of water, but maybe that wasn’t allowed. Oh well, he was already in too deep.

He cringed as the floorboards creaked under his light weight as he stepped off of the ladder, half expecting someone to come rushing in at the slightest of sounds.

The kitchen- it was more of a kitchenette than anything, a small fridge and sink with a few cupboards filled with who knows what sat against the wall, a counter behind it, the space small yet useful- was beautifully clean, probably Phil’s handiwork. Ranboo grabbed a glass that had been sat on the drying rack near the sink and filled it with the tap water, fresh and cold straight from the well outside. He ignored the small burn as a drop of water dribbled over the rim of the glass, burning his finger tips with condensation and gulped down half the glass.

“What are you doing?” A voice from behind him startled him into almost dropping his glass; he spun around, Technoblade sat on the couch, netherite axe resting across his lap, a sharpening stone block on the floor near his feet and a cloth in his right hand. Ranboo was uncomfortably aware of how he could easily kill him in this position. Had he been there the entire time?  
“Oh- uh, just getting some water. Sorry, you?” his voice broke slightly out of anxiousness, an apology on the tip of his tongue. He just wanted to get out of there.  
“Just...cleaning my stuff. What’re you doin’ up this late- er, early?” Technoblade glanced outside at the rising sun, clearly feeling just as awkward as Ranboo in this situation, though there was a kind of sharp, warning tone in his voice that set Ranboo even more on edge than he already was. Could he really tell him what had woke him up? Maybe Technoblade would be more angry if he didn’t tell him.

“Couldn’t sleep- yeah. Woke up. Nightmare. You?”

“Haven’t been t’ sleep yet. Insomnia ‘n all.” His gaze went back to his axe, cloth continuing to polish it once again, Ranboo slowly drinking the rest of his water before resting it back in the sink.

“You can talk to me about it, uh, if you want.” Technoblade wasn’t looking at him, but the offer seemed sincere enough.

He sat down on the couch- opposite ends, he didn’t feel like he should be within half a meter of the Blood God who just so happened to have a freshly sharpened axe on his lap, but he didn’t want to turn the offer down.

“I get them pretty much all the time. They aren’t- they aren’t that bad, I can deal with them. I do deal with them. It’s just hard to fall back asleep once I wake up.” he nodded and tilted his head up, as if he was thinking.

“Just because you can deal with them doesn’t mean s’not hard. I used to get nightmares- don’t really sleep that much anymore to get them- so I get it. Do you, you want to tell me what they were about?” Ranboo froze. _The_ Technoblade was almost being vulnerable with _him_ of all people. The internal dilemma of whether he should spill his guts to the man he barely knew (oh but he’d been _so_ kind to him so far. He- and Phil- had nursed him back to health when he passed out in front of his house the night before. He hadn’t killed him yet. He hadn’t threatened him or asked for anything in return for his kindness) was eventually won over when he saw Technoblade staring at him intently from the corner of his eye.

“They- they’re about Dream. Mainly.” Technoblade stopped cleaning his axe to look at him. “I never really spoke to the guy, I don’t think I have anyway. Can’t remember if I did. But he- he just tells me all this stupid stuff I did and how I- I hurt everyone. How it’s my fault and- and that I can’t rely on my own memory because it’s _clearly_ betrayed me so far.” He clenched his fists in his lap, nails lightly scratching against the dual toned surfaces of his palms. His eyes welled up a little – he didn’t realise he could cry so easily – but he didn’t want to cry. Not only would it leave a scathing burn running down his cheeks, but the humiliation of crying in front of Technoblade was imminent and something he definitely didn’t want to go through.

“Ah, kid, you don’t have to tell me everything, y’know. But, if it helps, Dream was known to be pretty crappy guy, so if it’s his voice you’re hearin’ in your head, you don’t have to assume everything he says is the truth. If you rely on the information you can clearly remember and the people you fully trust tell you, then you should be able to get by alright. That’s my stance on it.” Ranboo nodded, he seemed sincere, not like he was joking or just trying to get him to stop talking, like he had fully listened to him and understood the situation he was in. He would have to write all this down in his memory book soon.

“Thanks, Technoblade. It- it does really mean a lot. It does.” Technoblade gave him a small smile – the last thing Ranboo was expecting – and he came to the realisation that Technoblade wasn’t actually wearing his mask.

“What?” Technoblade asked at Ranboo’s suddenly shocked expression.

“I just, I just realised that I've never really seen you without your mask on.” Technoblade lifted a hand to rub at his mask-less cheekbone, before giving him another grin.

“Seriously? Wow, cool. Am I intimidating yer?” he laughed at the end, his accent a little heavier in his moment of laughter, the question clearly both rhetorical and a joke (luckily for Ranboo).

“Ah, you’re probably hungry, too. How about an early breakfast? It’s morning anyway, though Phil probably won’t be up for another hour or so.” The sun had indeed fully reached the top of the hill the cabin was placed behind, not fully risen yet but still peeking out, halfway there. The snow was also still falling down, though clearly not as bad as it was yesterday. Ranboo stood with a huff, before giving Technoblade his best smile.

“That sounds great, thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah.  
> Technoblade seems pretty awkward with emotional stuff, so trying to write a 'bonding over trauma :D' chapter was kind of hard, but I feel like I did okay with it?  
> As always leave a kudos/comment/bookmark if you feel like it, I'm always open to feedback.  
> I also wanted to thank you guys for over 200 kudos already, like, seriously my lord haha, I really can't express my gratitude enough. (I understand MCYT fanfictions are in high demand lmao but other fics I've wrote either don't have that many or took a long time to get there, so seriously thank you.)
> 
> I'll see you in a few days with the next chapter, remember to eat and drink something today :)  
> \- Fever


	4. 4 | epic background music (discs playing whilst home alone)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ranboo is left home alone for a few hours, Phil still telling him he is 'bed ridden' (despite having the ability to walk around).  
> Techno and Phil just need a little more food, he can survive on his own for a little while, right?  
> He's smart, and reliable, and Techno can trust him in his own home to not mess his stuff up. Yeah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Reading! Enjoy :)
> 
> Word Count - 1.8K
> 
> [Music_10](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eWYap6yXRNg)  
> [Music_11](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D-PDFP0jXcM)  
> [Music_12](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RRdmaOe3QPg)

Phil woke up to eggs cooking on the stove, the familiar sound of oil popping in a pan against the unfamiliar murmuring of voices in the kitchen. The blanket was light on his legs as he lifted it off of him, groggily planting his feet on the ground and standing up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, his vision slowly clearing as he walked towards the ladder to get into the kitchen.

It was definitely Ranboo and Techno speaking, and he smiled gently to himself at the thought of them getting along with each other. He stepped up properly into the main floor, both Ranboo and Techno’s head turning to look at him and he greeted them both with a wave, his wings slowly entering the room after his shoulders.

Someone had put a disc into the jukebox (not any from the whole Disc war, they’d rather not be a part of that) – probably Techno – a soft melody filling the room as Techno cooked and they engaged in light conversation.

Ranboo had began to call Techno, well, ‘Techno’, instead of his full title of Technoblade. He was probably asked to by the pig-man himself, always having preferred the shorter name, only the full one was used by people he wasn’t close with, or when things were more serious. Techno plated the breakfast – a delicious sight of fried sunny side up eggs and buttered toast, a small tomato salad sat in the middle of the table as well as glasses of orange juice (Phil was lucky to have managed to get some of that when he was last in L’Manburg), spread out just waiting for them to eat.

“You two got close whilst I was asleep, huh?” Phil mused, watching as they looked at each other, small half-smile on both of their face, even if Techno’s was harder to see.

“I... suppose, yes.” Ranboo replied, hand scratching his nape out of habit as he ducked a bit in embarrassment before sitting down at the table.

Breakfast was a jovial affair, light-hearted conversation about what they would most likely be doing that day – Ranboo didn’t participate much – as the steady tune of a ‘Strad’ disc hummed in the background at the low volume it had been set to.

turned to Ranboo, apparently asking for his opinion on something, and he realised he had been paying too much attention to the music’s melody than their conversation.

“Oh, sorry, what was that?” he rested his half eaten piece of toast back on his plate.

“We were wondering if you would be alright here home alone?” were they going somewhere? In _this_ weather?

“That- that should be fine. Where are you going?” Ranboo asked, looking to the ongoing snowstorm outside, watching as the snowflakes whirled around one another in the wind.

“Just getting some more food to last us a little longer, and hopefully visiting the village near here. The storm has settled quite a bit in the last two days, so we should be alright. We’ll only be a few hours, and you have your communicator if you need either of us urgently.” Techno confirmed what Phil was saying with a solemn nod, sipping on his drink, eyes closed.

In truth, Ranboo quite liked being alone, and he knew he would enjoy the alone time, but he couldn’t deny he was a little...nervous. The last time he was alone he was isolated, clawing at his skin from day to day as a voice in the back of his head told him all of the crappy stuff he had done, all the people he had betrayed, trapped inside of the obsidian walls that made up his panic room.

But he didn’t know that that would happen this time, so to hell with it, he’ll be optimistic for once.

He gave them a smile, it pulled at his face awkwardly and probably sat too high on his face, but he settled into it. “That’s fine, I’ll be okay here.”

Phil returned his smile, though not as strained as his, it clearly held worry to some extent.

“Good to hear, we’ll leave as soon as we’re ready. Should only be a few hours ‘n all.” Ranboo nodded, and returned to eating his toast.

Soon enough Techno and Phil were pulling on their boots, Techno’s cloak fluttering behind him as he connected the gold clasp together at his collar. Ranboo awkwardly stood near the door to say goodbye to them, not used to farewells like this one.

“We’ll be back soon, Ranboo. You can make food if and when you get hungry, you should be able to find it fairly easily.” Phil ruffle the hair between his small horns for a moment, before turning to unlock the door as Technoblade looked to him.

“Just, uh, don’t burn the house down.” Ranboo gave a nod and a smile at Techno’s words, finding comfort in how casually he spoke. Right; they would be back before he knew it.

The door slammed and their voices faded as they trudged away from the cabin, trudging through what was probably knee-high snow, maybe higher. The silence settled in and it was the first time it was truly quiet since Ranboo was in his panic room. Even there Dream’s voice managed to keep him company, regardless of the fact that it was greatly unwanted.

He turned on his heel, lifting himself up the ladder awkwardly until he reached the room he was staying in. The walls were line with shelves – the majority filled with different books, their spines all worn out and clearly well-read; the other shelves held up barrels that weren’t attached to the walls as well as random miscellaneous items (was that a totem of undying? Just lying there?).

He ran a slightly clawed hand across the books (he was calm at the moment, his nails weren’t quite the talons they had previously been, but still a dull sharp, not enough to scratch the books, however).

The books reminded him of his own memory books, and at the thought he spun around to face the bed he had been sleeping in, seeing all of his items he had been carrying with him next to the foot of the bed.

Apparently – or so Phil tells him – the leather satchel he had been carrying was so worn out and soaked it would either have to dry for a while or be thrown out, and to protect whatever he was carrying, Techno had emptied the items out next to his bed, promising that he didn’t look at anything past drying them off lightly.

His three memory books were in a mismatched order in the pile of his things (an old sword, it was diamond – he couldn’t afford netherite – but even then it was still clearly old and second-hand; a golden apple or two- he was mostly surprised Technoblade didn’t get rid of them, they had been sat in the snow for who knows how long, and with enough gold were fairly easy to make – and lastly, other than his books, a book written in Ender. It was only of fairy tales, and he got it long before he could remember, all he knew is that it was his and always had been. His old jacket, which could probably also be thrown away, was also neatly folded underneath the pile).

He opened all three up, and scoured the room to find a quill and ink to write with – eventually finding one and settling back down on the wooden flooring.

He dipped the quill and scribbled out some old names in the first one- making sure to write _Technoblade_ and _Philza_ under the _Possible Friends/Allies section._

He made sure to list what had happened to him in the past two and a half days, as well as his current opinion on Phil and Techno.

Techno was... scary, to say the least, but he seemed kind and as if he was trying to be gentle with him, though his presence still set Ranboo on edge.

Phil was different. He was clearly kind and had a strong paternal vibe always around him, and seemed genuinely concerned for Ranboo’s well-being, but his previous- and still- title of _Angel of Death_ scared Ranboo half to death. He felt like he was always standing on eggshells around the pair, no matter how comforting they seemed to be (maybe it was actually his mind playing tricks on him again?).

He closed the books and sighed, before placing them back in the pile and shoving all the items under the bed. It was a shitty hiding place – anywhere was a shitty hiding place in a room that was both not yours and also one you had just began to live in – but he disregarded the fact at the smaller feeling of security that his items where just that little bit safer.

He hauled himself back down the dreaded ladder, and made immediate eye contact with jukebox sitting off to the side of the room. He smiled- genuinely- and strode over to it, suddenly in the mood for music. There was a small basket of discs in sleeves next to the jukebox, and he rifled through them until he got to one he both recognised and knew he liked.

He pulled the disc from its plastic sleeve, it’s purple-blue middle showing for only a few seconds before he inserted it into the jukebox, turning the volume up higher.

The calming and upbeat – in his opinion – tune of the ‘ _Mall_ ’ disc began and he closed his eyes wistfully to listen to it in its full glory.

He began rocking back on the balls of his feet – he wouldn’t call it dancing, that sounded too embarrassing – but he enjoyed getting lost in the music before opening his eyes to see the disc spinning around inside of the machine.

He hummed to its lyric-less sound, before glancing down as the machine slowly stopped whirring, no more white noise behind the nice soundtrack. The disc stopped spinning, and rose up out of the jukebox, the option for him to push it back down and repay or take it out freely given to him.

He stopped for a moment, before pushing it back down.

He sat beside the jukebox to listen quietly, but fell asleep before he could stop himself, the melody drifting him off as his eyes closed shut.

\--

Phil and Techno finally made it home, it was a pain trying to move through almost waist high snow – on Phil anyway, it was around knee-high on Technoblade, which was arguably just as annoying.

They shoved the front door open, eager to sit in front of the fire and drink something warm, quickly removing their snow caked boots and shoving them near the door.

Techno went to call out to Ranboo to tell him they were home, but received a jab to his ribs just as he opened his mouth. Phil was pointing at something across the room beside him, and Techno shifted his eyes, finally seeing Ranboo slumped against the stone wall, fire all burnt out, jukebox patiently waiting for the Mall disc to be removed from its open mouth.

They smiled and looked at each other, before busying themselves with making the fire.

Phil wordlessly placed a blanket over Ranboo’s shoulders, taking a second to smile down at his peaceful face – something he hadn’t seen since he was brought there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fluff, lmao, also kind of a filler and I didn't know what to do for the ending, I just knew I wanted to do a chapter with a music disc that wasn't angsty and...'ugh'??  
> Can you tell Mall is my favourite? :))  
> Leave a kudos/comment/bookmark to boost my ego!!! Just kidding...unless...  
> But for real!! I post three chapters and you're all giving me almost 400 kudos??? That's insane, I'm so grateful you're all enjoying my shitty writing that came from a burst of motivation :)  
> I hope you enjoyed though! Next update soon, hopefully :)  
> \- Fever


End file.
